


Hell Is Eternity, Hell Is Your Destiny

by Roachbugg, TyJaxReaper



Series: OC Collabs [21]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: ADHD Is The Best Excuse, Abraham's Usual Sentences Make No Sense, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe, BFG, Badger Bonding, Big Boss Rick Grimes, Big Brother Magnus, Blood, Brotherly Bonding, Daryl is a dick, Devon's An Adorable Turd, Devon's The Next Spider-Man, Explicit Language, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter References, Honey Badger Don't Give A Shit, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw FTW, Humor, Humorus War Stories, Little Shit Brother Devon, M/M, Magnus's A Badass War Vet, Massive Teddy Bear, Meaning a million Acronmys, Mentions Of War Injuries, Mexican Standoff, Mild Blood, Military Backstory, Military Jargon, Minor Injuries, Parkour, Pillow Magnus, Protective Magnus, Recruitment, Sad Stories, Soldiers, Suckerpunch Daryl, This is why you dont let me tag, at least at first, references, the authors regret nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-09 13:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8892787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roachbugg/pseuds/Roachbugg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/TyJaxReaper
Summary: “Don’t eat me! Please! I swear ta god, I don’t taste right! I’m practically skin ‘n bone!” total bullshit. He worked out a lot, having been the co-captain in his old College Parkour team. “Seriously! I probably taste like a croat!” Devon backed up, shuffling back until he was pressing himself against the fence he’d jumped.“Firstly, I don't eat people, especially kids. Secondly, What the fuck is a Croat? Thirdly, who the fuck are you?” Magnus got to his feet, towering over the other guy. He heard the distant growl of the dead approaching and pulled the sledge hammer from his back on reflex.“I’m not a kid!” he shot back, his brain-to-mouth filter faltering for a second. He was twenty-fuckin’-two, not some snot nosed, piece of shit kid. “And where the hell did you find a fuckin’ hammer like that!? You some kind of Viking dude!?” Devon mouthed off, waving his hand around animatedly. Seriously, this was his defense mechanism, mouthing off to giants!“You so are a kid, mouth gives you away."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entire sure where this one came from, but I'm really not disappointed. This was really fun to get into!!! -KayReaper
> 
> It was probably Kay's Fault. -Roachbugg
> 
> I'm tempted to take full responsibility, but I actually think that "you" dragged "me" into it this time. -KayReaper

**Magnus Nilsson               Devon Grimm**

Devon panted harshly as he ran around the corner, ducking behind a van to finally take a few seconds to catch his breath. He tried to calm himself, in and out, in out, in out. His chest rose and fell fast as he pressed himself harder against the metal, his head turning just a bit as he caught the sound of the groaning and grunting. He shifted carefully and peeked around the hood, seeing the dead closing in. He let out a quiet squeak and pushed himself back, quickly making his way away from the van and around another corner.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck,” he continued to squeak as he leaped over a few fences. The third fence was a surprise. After launching over it, he came face to chest with something, dropping them both to the floor. Devon groaned into the warm clothes.

“Ugh. What the actual-” Magnus groaned, shoving the weight off of his chest and sitting up to glare at…. A _kid_ ? What the hell? “Uhhh, hi?” Magnus blurted, half confused. He hadn’t actually had anyone ‘ _run into him_ ’ for a long time. Hell, he hadn't seen another human, not trying to kill him, in over a year.

“Don’t eat me! Please! I swear ta god, I don’t taste right! I’m practically skin ‘n bone!” total bullshit. He worked out a lot, having been the co-captain in his old College Parkour team. He was pretty good at the whole running, jumping, climbing and stuff. He gained the muscle to do all that. So, in short… he wasn’t skin ‘n bone. “Seriously! I probably taste like a croat!” Devon backed up, shuffling back until he was pressing himself against the fence he’d jumped.

“Firstly, I don't eat people, especially kids. Secondly, What the fuck is a _Croat?_ Thirdly, who the fuck are you?” Magnus got to his feet, towering over the other guy. Well, at seven feet tall, you kinda towered over everyone.. He heard the distant growl of the dead approaching and pulled the sledge hammer from his back on reflex.

“I’m not a kid!” he shot back, his brain-to-mouth filter faltering for a second. He was twenty-fuckin’-two, not some snot nosed, piece of shit kid. “And where the hell did you find a fuckin’ hammer like that!? You some kind of Viking dude!?” Devon mouthed off, waving his hand around animatedly. He paused and then shifted a bit further back, trying to press himself into the wood, or trying to phase through it. Seriously, this was his defense mechanism, mouthing off to giants!

“You so _are_ a kid, mouth gives you away. I got the hammer from a construction site. And yes, I’m a Viking. I came back through time to massacre zombles with my giant hammer.” He kinda liked this kid, clearly his only defense was mouthing off. He had no desire to hurt the guy, he had a thing about kids. It had nearly gotten him killed a few times. His one stupid moral quandary, his big brother instinct. That would probably be how he died.

“Okay, that’s my ADHD, so fuck you. And I’m on a fence about that whole Viking from the future crap… no pun intended,” he reached back and gently knocked the fence he was leaning against. “Also, the fuck is a zomble? Is that like… the same as Croat or something?” Devon raised a brow, giving him a crossed expression between flat and sarcastic.

“Last I checked, Croat was a racial slur against Croatian folk. Zomble, zombie, walkers, biters, the dead. Whatever the fuck you wanna call ‘em” he scratched at his beard, hearing the zombles approaching. “We should move. I'd rather _not_ be eaten.” He said flatly. He contemplated whether or not the kid could kill him… probably not, if he was awake.

“ _We_ ? When did we become a _we_ ? You can’t take someone and make them a _we_!” he babbled as he stumbled to his feet, still keeping himself plastered to the fence and a safe distance from the guy. Devon was never a good judge of character, that was actually the reason he was out there alone. The last few teams he’d been with were bastards that used him as either bait or a quick target. You know, like those spinning targets with the people strapped to them? In circuses? Yeah, a bit farfetched, but that happened...

They didn't have time to argue. He was faster than a guy his size looked. He seized the kid by the elbow and dragged him quickly into the building. Magnus managed to clear locking the door just as a rather large pack of zombles rounded the corner. “You're stuck with me ‘till the herd passes. I'm not gonna kill you or rape you, or whatever.” _Seriously, idiot. You already look like a psycho, don't scare the kid!_ The little guy who served as his good conscious screamed from his shoulder, **_‘Shuddup, good me.’_ **

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking that until you fuckin’ said it,” he twisted his way out of the grip and backed up, surveying the area he was currently stuck in with the giant. Devon had caught his breath by that point and dropped to the ground, his legs instantly crossed while he sat further away from the huge fucker. “Give it to me straight, BFG, what’s your story,” he pursed his lips interestedly, staring almost expectantly.

“BFG? Was that a DOOM reference?” He snorted. Crossing over to where he'd left his stuff. He was planning on crashing here anyway. From what he'd gathered, this used to be a law office or something, judging by all the legal documents. “Cause if that was a DOOM reference, we can totally be friends,” he flopped down by his duffle, picking up his assault rifle and begging to disassemble it for cleaning.

“Big Fucking Giant, actually,” he replied bluntly, smirking at the fact that he was thinking about the gun from the movie. Honestly, it was a pretty awesome film. But he grew up on the Big Friendly Giant shit because his mother thought it was a way to teach him about ‘judging people by their looks’ and ‘making friends’ and stuff. He was definitely the gun-fun guy, but cartoons were a thing he grew up on. So, it was the first thing that came to mind. “Could totally be a DOOM reference though,” Devon shrugged.

“Don't make fun of my height, kid.” he grumbled. He was tall, people didn't need to remind him. _‘Quit whining, you bitch’_ the bad part of his conscious yelled from the opposite shoulder. _‘_ **_Can it, bad me’_ ** he grumbled to himself. “Well, my story is kinda classified, but…. Well there isn't exactly a federal government any more or an army to court martial me, so….” He let out a breath. “Do you really wanna know this shit? It's kinda depressing.”

“Yeah, totally. I mean, there’s nothing else to do and honestly, you’re kinda… interesting, I guess,” Devon shrugged again, turning his palm up to rest his chin on it, his elbow digging into his knee. “And… just for the record. I think the height this is pretty fuckin’ awesome. I was a midget until I left school,” he let a crook, encouraging smirk cross his features.

“Alright,” he sighed. He hated talking about himself, having been a better listener than talker. “I was with the army, Delta force. When the outbreak started, the army was fighting like hell to contain everything.” _That was a total fail._ “The secretary of defense lost his fucking mind. He killed the president and got a hold of the nuclear launch codes.” He paused, shaking his head. The fucking traitor. “Anyway, my team was in DC at the time, trying to evacuate congress. We got sent to take out the defense Secretary.” There had been a grand total of one general alive at that point, some old cranky brigadier, who he hoped was alive. He was kinda awesome.

“We got to the POTUS bunker in time to abort the launch, but we were kinda pinned underground. We fought our way out and got separated in a giant herd. We had a set rendezvous point, but I waited there a month. None of my squad showed up,” he cleared his throat, those guys were the closest thing he'd ever had to a family, “I dunno if they're alive or not, but I know one thing for sure. The Major is way too fucking stubborn to die.” That was about the only thing that kept him going, faith that his CO, his best friend, was still alive somewhere, kicking ass and taking names. He pulled a Cigarette from his vest and lit up, letting his eyes watch the kids reaction.

Honestly, Devon was… fuckin’ wowed. His mouth was slightly open, staring at him like he was just kicked in the face by a train. The guy was a damn hero, a straightforward hero from the frontlines of the worst war Earth’s seen, and here he was, sitting in front of him like  teenage girl watching her ultimate favourite idle. He didn’t know what to say, what to think… what was he supposed to do? To Say? What was the most sensible thing a non-sensible person, like himself, could say at that point? … This was Devon, obviously… so… “Fuck, dude,” he muttered quietly, his expression between blank and awe.

“Yeah, pretty much sums it up.” He chuckled, finishing tearing down his rifle and began cleaning it. “What's your story. How's a mouthy kid still alive and alone?” Seriously, this guy didn't look like the survivalist type. He had years of training to fall back on. This guy was probably not even out a college when this shit started.

“You want an honest answer, or mine?” he quirked a brow. This guy was… pretty intense and in all honesty, Devon had nothing on him. Basic skills was his thing, parkour and his active mind kept him sharp and on his feet. That was his thought. The honest answer… wasn’t really something that boosted his confidence...

“I was honest with you,” Magnus pointed out honestly. He wouldn’t judge the kid, he was alive. That was pretty impressive, in its own right.

“I-uh… I basically…,” he hesitated. “Guess you could call me a coward, but… when it came to fighting these things, I always tended to run,” he shrugged, dropping his eyes and avoided the guys. “In groups, I stayed behind the lines, frozen or scared and I either ran, or… hid. I… realized that… I could do it all on my own. I avoided, I hid, I scavenged. I was better alone that with a group because I’m… a coward,” he flicked his brows with a huff. “I was a Parkour co-captain back in college, my ADHD keeps me active and fast and hyper aware of a lot of things. It makes me pretty agile and I found that… I could do my own thing, without other people there,” he didn’t mention that he tended to be the butt of everyone's jokes when it came to being in a team. He was pretty badass before the Croats hit, but after… it was like he did a complete 180. “So… that’s it…” Devon shrugged, dropping back with his palms behind him to keep him sitting up.

“Do you know in situations of danger, the human brain has only two reactions? Fight or Flight. If your brain thinks flight will keep you alive, that’ll be your instinctive reaction.” He shrugged. He didn't look like a fighter anyway, it was perfectly normal to be scared shitless in these kind of scenarios, when every day was a fucking nightmare. “I'll let you in on in a little secret. I'm scared too, all the time. It's only years of combat training that keeps me from running or freezing up. I don't think you're a coward, just a scared kid in a situation you should never have to experience.”

“Like fuck you’re scared,” Devon totally didn’t believe that. They guy was built like a brick-shit house. He was huge, didn’t need to be scared of any-fuckin’-thing. A wall of muscle, a fighter and hero and here Devon was, a lanky twenty-two year old with toned muscle and parkour skills. That was it. He could run, fighting wasn’t his thing. He was the sneaky, stealthy coward.

“Trust me, I get scared. I may be big and scary, but everyone has fears. The only men I've ever known who pretended they weren't scared? They all got shot for being stupid-ass clowns.” Magnus put his rifle back together and unfolded a map in front of him. “C’mere, wanna show you some things, in case you decide not to stick with me.” he really should get the guys name. “Names Magnus, by the way. Lieutenant Magnus Nilsson. 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, If you wanna know the rank and shit.”

“Nice to meetcha, man,” he smirked crookedly, actually feeling a bit of a cold weight lift off his shoulders. “Devon Grimm, Hyperactive spazz and College-boy,” he scoffed, getting up onto his hands and knees to crawl over to the big guy. “By the way, I was serious before. When I said that the giant height thing was pretty fuckin’ awesome,” he dropped to his stomach and laid down, crossing his arms in front of him and resting his chin where they overlapped.

“Alright. So, we're here.” He circled their position with a sharpie, “That herd came from the south,” he drew an arrow, pointing south to north with a little zombie doodle next to it. “North, there's an even bigger fucking herd.” He drew a big zombie on the map. “East is a town that's basically burnt down and west is nothing but a few hundred miles of woods. So, south is about the only option. Since that herd cleared out, headed north. There's an old cannery down south, could be a food jackpot.” He capped his marker and was really tempted to ruffle the kids hair. He was kind of a dork.

“So, we’re goin’ down south,” Devon repeated with a glance up at the bigger guy. It was stupid, but… he actually felt like there was some trust here. He didn’t like that he felt like he wanted to go with him. He was a loner guy, Devon liked that. He could work better alone, but… this Magnus guy was something else. He instantly opened up with much being said and eve with their rough first impression. Or Devon’s fuck-up, since he basically face-planted the guys chest. “Guess we’re a _WE_ now?”

“ _When did we become a we? You can't just take someone and make them a we.”_ Magnus mocked, sounding almost like he'd sucked in helium, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled.

“I don’t sound like that!” Devon beamed, barking out a laugh, which he wouldn’t admit, sounded more like a boy-ish giggle. _Totally didn’t giggle, fuck that_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy what we got going here. Let us know what you think and what part you liked more!! :D


	2. Chapter 2

“Are we there yet,” Devon huffed as he followed slowly behind the soldier-guy, keeping his senses sharp and his eyes open for anything out of the Walking Dead ordinary.

“Patience, my young apprentice. It's the journey, not the destination.” He sassed back. It was something Major Reiner liked to say when they whined about a long march. Magnus paused, holding up his hand. Something was  _ off.  _ “Do you feel that? Like someone’s watching us?” He asked, letting his rifle sweep the tree line, but not seeing anyone.

“I had this weird shiver up my spine earlier, but I passed that off as a reaction to that charred walker we passed not too long ago,” he shrugged, catching up and keeping a better pace with the man after actually thinking what he said. Devon would admit… that he wasn’t  _ that _ vigilant, it was the reason he tended to stay out of sight instead of walking down the centre of a town-street like this one. Magnus totally didn’t seem to care whether they were seen.

“Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything suspicious.” He swept his rifle and eyes around again, but couldn't shake the feeling. “Let’s pick up the pace, just in case.” This place was  _ too _ open and most of the buildings were boarded shut or half collapsed. There was a church ahead, and that'd give them some decent cover. He didn't much like this town now. He took off a brisk jog, heading for the church.

“I still say that we should’ve hopped through the gardens,” Devon muttered as he forced himself to take quicker steps to actually keep up with the huge guy. Each stride of Magnus’ was like three or four for Devon. Like seriously, he was tiny compared. “That way, it’d would’ve been harder to keep track of us,” he did as he was told though, glancing around and keeping his eyes moving to catch anything that was odd or weird to him in the Zombie Apocalypse. 

“Would’ve taken longer, wasted a lot of energy vaulting fences, lots of places for Zombles to be hiding.” He gave his tactical assessment of Devon’s plan. He wasn't mean about it, just stated the facts. He was still sweeping his eyes about when he spotted a motorcycle. It looked out of place, like it’d been recently parked. “Hold up.” He jogged over to the motorcycle, letting his hand brush the engine. it was still warm, “We’re not alone. Stay close Dev.” 

“Hey, wait,” he called distractedly. He carefully slipped both arms of his bag around his shoulders and slipped his pistol into his belt at the back and took a few strides towards a nearby car. It was wrecked, obviously, but he was more interested in the four-bottle pack of water, still sealed. There was a bag next to it, a store bag. He suspiciously strode over and crouched. “Dude, there’s like… three days worth of stuff here,” Devon pointed out as he reached out for the bag to look in. There was packaged food in there. Sealed apples, a few energy-bars and some flapjacks and a big bag of chips,

“That seems awful convenient, dunnit?” he said, positioning himself between Devon and any potential hostiles, almost on reflex. Like he was an HVT he was ordered to protect. 

“Can’t we just think of this as a pretty awesome break we caught or something?” Devon whined as he looked over his shoulder at the bigger man. “I mean, what’s wrong with thinking that maybe we stumbled onto something good here, that maybe the world wants us to live,”

“We could believe that, if we were naïve. Smells like either a trap, or someone trying to lure us into a sense of security.” He didn't believe in awesome breaks anymore.  _ Well, except meeting Dev _ . “Take it, but if it's poisoned and we die, I'll bring us both back so I can kill you again.” He huffed a laugh, still feeling cautious. Something felt  _ off  _ still. 

“Doubt it’s poisoned, everything’s sealed. The water is still in its wrapped up, see-through casing and the food’s enclosed. Pretty sure you can’t poison sealed food and drink,” Devon looked back to the stuff and slipped his bag from his shoulders, unzipping it and swapping the food from the store bag to his own. He zipped it up and then throw it over his back. He grabbed the water and stood up.

“Put it in my pack. I can carry more,” he nudged Dev with his boot. He knelt down in a combat crouch, so he could actually reach.

“‘Kay,” Devon turned and walked around to his back, unzipping it before unpacking the bottles and slipping them in with a sort of organized placement to make sure that there was more room.

“Is it weird my bag being this light is annoying me?” Like he'd gotten so used to hulking a fifty pound pack, and potentially a LMG or his rifle and a ATGM, that he felt ridiculously under encumbered.

“Well, not really, I guess. I mean, having a light bag in this kind of scenario isn’t a good thing. I could get frustrating,” he shrugged as he zipped Magnus’ bag up and stepped back. Devon did understand what the guy was thinking a second ago, about the whole convenience of this find. The food, drink and the still warm bike. It was… definitely unnerving. They clearly weren’t the only people there.

Magnus got back up and kept moving toward the church. He noticed a hole in the roof, and he'd rather enter through that than the door. The place looked like it had an attic. “Hey, parkour boy.” He pointed at the hole in the roof. “Think you can make it up there?” Magnus could if Devon dropped him a rope. He had a coil of rope with climbing hooks attached to his pack.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he smirked after the crappy way of answering with a yes. “Hold onto this,” Devon slipped his bag from his shoulder and carefully dropped it at the man’s boots. He then angled himself straight with the building, eyeing the ledges and little nooks and crannies he could use as leverage and then took a few strides forward, bursting into a sprint. 

Devon darted a few paces up the wall and reached both hands up to grab at the second story ledge, under the window. It creaked, his heart skipping a beat as he thought that it might break, but it stayed solid and he let out a breath. The college-boy cleared his throat and  lifted his leg to hook it on the edge of it. This was more of the rock-climbing he took part in than the parkour side of things and he was thankful that he was pretty awesome in both. He wasn’t completely useless, he thought to himself. 

It was the next part of things that made him think that he’d need the parkour stuff. There was a house sitting right next to where he was hanging, a tree between them. He inched away and then skipped forward, practically jumping from the building to the tree and he took another run up a wall like thing. A few steps and he caught hold of a branch and threw himself back at the building. Third story and he was at the window, holding onto the ledge.

“Fuck,” Devon hissed in a whispered. There was a piece of glass sticking up between his fingers and he caught the bit of webbing between his thumb and finger. He decided to ignore it and pulled himself up, using his boots to leverage him up further by digging the front in. He peeked into the room, seeing nothing. No croats anyway. 

“Nice moves there, Peter Parker,” Magnus joked. He secured Devon’s bag to his and slung his rifle over his shoulder, unlatching his coil of rope. “If I throw you a rope is there a place to anchor it up there? Like sturdy rafters, a pillar, etc,” he wished the kid would stop dangling there. If he fell, Magnus doubted he could catch him without serious injury to them both.

“Gimme a sec,” Devon called back as he hefted himself up and climbed in carefully, landing hands first and then knees as he dropped in. He looked around fast, making sure he was the only one in the room. There was boxes everywhere, a few old looking and a few knew. There were beams lining the ceiling, one thick one centred straight with the window. It looked solid. He strode over, giving it a kick and then bracing himself against it and pushing to see if it budged. Nothing. Great. 

“I got a beam in the middle of the room. It’s lined with the window,” he called down, keeping an eye out after he reached the window. Wouldn’t do them any good if walkers were around. “Throw me the line,” Devon gripped his hand with the other, wincing to himself. It stung like a motherfucker, and he was bleeding, red running between his fingers.

Magnus spun the rope around and tossed it straight to Devon, who caught it deftly. Once the line was secure, he climbed it like he'd done a thousand times before, not even noticing the weight of both their packs. He climbed through the window, pulling the line up and turning to Dev. “You're bleeding. Lemme see that.” He said, slipping both packs off and finding his first aid kit.

“It’s nothing, just some glass still stuck in the window,” he held his palm out, showing where the webbing was cut between his thumb and finger. It still stung, a bit cold and sore. It was sort of bearable, it just meant that it’d hurt worse if he splayed his fingers, or grabbed a bottle or something. He just had to use the hand less until it was healed up. A few hours and he’d be fine, maybe. 

“Dont argue with your medic,” he pulled Devon over into the light, so he could see. It wasn't bad, but he still wanted to clean and wrap it. he'd seen plenty of people die from simple infections in his time. “This may sting,” he poured peroxide on the wound, wiping the excess blood away. He smeared some antibacterial cream on the wound and wrapped it up. “You'll live.” He ruffled Devon's hair and swept the room. He'd head down stairs in a moment.

“I feel like I was just treated like a younger bro or something,” he laughed lightly as he ran a hand through his previously ruffled hair. Devon actually never had a brother, let alone an older one. He’d had guys that occasionally told him that he was like a younger brother, but… he never felt it. They were just older friends to him, never brothers. What Magnus just did though… it was like… a sort of sibling-intimacy. Like how an older one would treat a younger one when they actually acted civil with each other.

“You've officially been adopted. Change your last name, if ya like” Magnus gave a  _ shall we _ ? Gesture toward the stairs, their packs would be fine there for now.

“You go on. We didn’t check any of these boxes and there could be a few things in here we could use,” Devon let a crooked smirk slip his lips before he turned to look at a few. “I’ll join you in a sec,” the thing was, he found something. He could a glimpse of something as he climbed in earlier and he wanted to surprise the guy, maybe make him laugh at the stupid idea he’d had.

“Yell if you need me.” He said descending the stairs, the second floor was mostly empty a couple altar boy zombies he knifed easily enough, he spied a kitchen he'd raid once he'd checked the bottom floor, he'd just hit the bottom of the stair's when a crossbow was in his face and he found himself in a Mexican standoff.  _ Well shit. _

\----- Devon

Devon grinned as slipped on the mask. It didn’t cover his entire face, only the top. He’d found a clown suit, just a simple thin fabric that could be torn off easily. He giggled, admitting to himself that it was sort of girly of him. 

He carefully and quietly strode down the steps, noting a few bodies here and there, freshly killed, and he went down further, keeping as quiet as possible. Once he reached the bottom floor, he slipped behind the door and peeked in. Magnus was walking slow, a crossbow aimed at him. The doorframe was in the way, so he couldn’t actually see who it was, but Mag was holding his own weapon up, both aimed at each other. They were coolly keeping their composure and Devon watched, silently taking the suit off, the mask gone. He was glad he had his pistol with him, sadly, with no bullets in it, but he was a damn good bluff.

“I'd not point that at people. Might put someone’s eye out.” Magnus remarked flatly. He had the guy outgunned, obviously, but he had no intention of shooting, if he didn't have too.

“You first,” Devon caught the roughness in his tone, the gritty sounding rumble from his throat. Clearly, the guy didn’t trust anyone with that attitude. From what he could see, he’d gestured to Mag’s weapon.

“Yeah, not gon’ happen, country boy,” Magnus flatly stated. Seriously, did he look like the kinda guy who’d lower a gun when he had a crossbow in his face? 

Devon sneakily dropped the suit without a sound and grabbed his empty gun from his belt, holding it low before he peeked further through the gap in the doorway, noting the fast glance Mag took towards him and back. He saw him.

“How long you been following us?” He'd try to keep the guy talking. He hadn't shot yet, so clearly he was neither stupid or a murderer. He wanted something from them, that much was clear. 

The guy was silent, keeping his eyes on Mag, which he was thankful for. It gave him the element of surprise as he stepped out from behind the door and held his empty gun to the back of his head. “Don’t move, dirtbag!” he’d always wanted to say that! He was feeling so giddy after it! 

“Nice flank, kid. I may make a Delta outta you yet.” Magnus was surprised. The kid was sneaky as fuck, like a little ninja!

“Thanks, bro,” obviously, they weren’t brothers, but it was sort of nice to say it. It made him feel… a bit special, he guessed. Whatever, it was cool. He grinned at Magnus, keeping his empty gun aimed dad centre of the stranger's skull.

“Now, if you'd be so kind to get that goddamn crossbow out me face. Kay, thanks.” Don't be dumb.  _ I don't wanna fight, I really don't. I really just want there to still be decent fucking people in this hell on earth scenario. _

Slowly, the guy released the weapon with one hand, turning them both up, so he made it look like he wasn’t a threat. Devon kept his gun steady, eyeing the man. “Drop it,” he ordered calmly, thankful that his voice didn’t waver. He watched as he did as was told, gradually lowering the bow and then dropped it to the carpet.

“Up against the wall, hands where I can see ‘em. Now, how long and why are you following us?” He wasn't really asking. If he didn't like the answer, he planned to knock the guy out and put him somewhere he wouldn't be eaten, and could escape when he woke. He was bit unhinged, but not a murderer

“We’re recruiting!” Devon shot his gaze to the suddenly open main doors to the building, a guy standing there, panting lightly and looking a bit concerned. It was then that he felt a fist hit him hard and he was thrown back, landing on the bottom of his spine and he was suddenly sprawled out, pain erupting in his jaw. 

“Stop!” Magnus commanded, kneeling next to Devon, his rifle now on both men sons of bitches, whatever. “Start talking! Before I go full auto on both your punk asses.” he really didn't appreciate someone punching the kid. He almost shot the redneck looking guy just for that.

Devon groaned and strained as he got up onto his hands and knees, a hand reaching up to his face as he spat thick wads of blood. He bit his fuckin’ tongue ‘cause of that hit. “Sonofa-,” he spat again, dropping back to sit on his boot heels to use both hands to wipe up the blood leaking from his lip. A bitten tongue and split lip… thanks, bastard. 

“Look, we…” the newer stranger started, seeming really uncertain as he glanced at Devon. He just stared back unimpressed as he folded his long-sleeve over his hand and held it to his mouth. “We’re… we’re recruiting, trying to help people-,”

“Did a bang-up fuckin’ job of that… literally,” Devon glared at the long haired bastard, who just huffed and stared back flatly.

“Yeah, great fucking first impression,” Magnus growled, nudging Devon with his boot, “Back left pocket, for your lip.” He tilted his head toward his pants. He had a handkerchief in there, better than bleeding all over his shirt.

Devon grunted, his voice muffled around the thick shift sleeve. He shakily shifted around to his back and grabbed the napkin, swapping it with his shirt and then held it against his mouth. He could taste the blood, shuddering at the copper tang. He moved over to the closest bench and sat there, leaning his elbows on his knees as he struggled to stay put. ADHD made him fidget, it was a ‘ _ unable to stay still _ ’ thing.

Magnus made his way to Devon, keeping the two strangers covered, dropping into a crouch again. “Water, rinse your mouth and spit ‘till the bleeding stops.” He ordered. He kinda wanted to shoot the guys. That was a totally uncalled for punch. “Recruiting for what? A college-kid boxing tournament?” 

Devon reached out and grabbed the guys canteen after noticing him gesture to it. He unclipped it from his belt and opened the lid, taking the cloth from his lips, which had held it there. He took some into his mouth and swirled it around, wrinkling his nose at the mixing tasted and then spat, doing it again and again until he couldn’t taste anymore. 

“Fucker,” he growled quietly at the guy.

“No, I-, I’m sorry about what just happened,” the newer guy held his hands up. “Really. We’re recruiting new people, to bring them back to a safe haven,” he’d explained, his expression still sort of worried as he glanced between them. Devon had the napkin and folded it up, hoping that his lip and tongue was slowing down with the bleeding. His still felt wet on the cut, so, that was probably a no. 

“What, you got some sort of base? I've seen communities before. They tend to implode internally, or get hit by unsavory individuals.” Still being out here sucked, and not to sound like Eddard Stark, but ‘ _ winter was coming _ ’.

“Not this one,” Devon watched as the guy slipped his hand into his knee high pocket, pulling out maybe A5 sized pieces of paper… photos? He carefully kept his hands up as he shifted closer, holding them out to Magnus, gesturing to them like he wanted him to look. “We have walls, security… food, guns,”

Magnus pulled his handgun out, keeping it on the scrappy shit who'd punched Dev. He rifled quickly through the photos. Their defenses were better than most, wouldn't keep people out without constant patrols, but they'd keep biters and wildlife out. 

“How many sentries you keep on the walls? We could climb right in and you wouldn't know we were there if it was dark.” He always looked at things from a military perspective. It'd kept him alive for a long time after all. He had a good grasp of tactics ,he'd studied at Westpointe. The US army officer academy.

“Why not come and see for yourself? If you don’t like it, you can leave. We won’t force you to stay. It’s entirely up to you,” the cleaner guy suggested. Devon didn’t say a thing, just deciding to think on it and maybe get Mag’s opinion. Honestly, it sounded nice, safe, from the guys confidence in what he was talking about. He seemed pretty upbeat about it.

“If I say yes… can I punch him first?” Magnus gestured to the guy who'd hit Devon. “It's only fair.”

“You-uh… you’d have to talk to Rick about that,” the stranger gave a tight smile at that, unsure seeming as he’d said it.

“Who’s Rick?” Devon asked asked, his speech slightly thicker and rough from the throbbing inside his mouth.

“The head ass-hole of asshole-ville, I'd guess Dev.” Magnus joked, trying to raise the guys spirits a bit. Getting sucker punched sucked, not in the fun way either.

“How many walkers you killed,” the fuckbag that hit him suddenly spoke up, his tone flat and emotionless. The fuck was with this bastard.

“Stopped counting when it hit triple digits,” Magnus said with a deadpanned tone, shrugging along with it. 

“I-uh… not many. I tended to avoid rather than kill,” Devon shrugged, his tone still a bit off.

“How many human's,” jesus christ, this was starting to get fucking creepy. Devon actually eyed him like he was more of a threat than the dead things walking around.

“Since this started? Three, before that, I dunno. A lot. I'm an army-boy, Special-Ops.” Magnus decided to be honest. He saw no point in lying. He was a killer, but he killed terrorists and insurgents and stuff. He’d heard the quiet ‘zero’ leave Dev, and he wasn’t really surprised. He could’ve compared him to a delicate flower at this point. Not even three days and he knew him well enough to know that Zero would’ve been his answer.

“Why?” the question was aimed at the soldier, thick, heavy with suspicion and maybe a bit curious.

“One was a rapist, one wanted to nuke every major city in the country, and the third tried to kill me.” He shrugged. It was all business to him, and was what he'd been trained for. “Three might turn into four, if you decide to punch Dev again,” He added swiftly, glaring at the bastard, covered in bastard sauce, with bastard filling and a side of bastard. 

“Could’ve let Rick do that if they came back with us,” Devon heard the cleaner guy mention. He decided to ignore that and look up at Mag, eyeing him and shrugging when he caught his gaze. It wouldn’t really hurt to check it out.

“If you don’t wanna go in, maybe they could bring this Rick guy out and we could talk to him outside the place?” he questioned uncertainly, shrugging again and standing on very mildly shaken legs. That was just from the fact that he was still surprised and that his face still hurt from the jaw-punch. He was totally gonna get him back for that, even if he had to get Mag to teach him how to fight properly.

“We’ll go. I'll talk to your leader, see if I like what he has to say. And if he'd be willing to listen to some tactical advice. Your defenses could be better.” Even they didn't stay, he'd still offer advice. He didn’t necessarily want the people to die. Well, except country boy, but he'd probably let go of that when he got to bust his jaw and see how he liked it.

“No problem. We’ll see what we can do,” the cleaner one smiled, practically bouncing on his toes at this point.

“Mag, our bags are still in the attic, right?” Devon turned to the older guy before he reached down and grabbed his forgotten and empty gun. 

“Unless a giant raccoon ran off with ‘em, yeah. I'll go get em.” He huffed, glaring at the long haired guy as he passed and swiftly climbing the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

_ Do I look like a pillow, or Teddy bear or something?  _ He grumbled to himself, looking down at Devon who was snoozing away happily against his shoulder. He looked fucking adorable, and completely relaxed, so Magnus didn't shove him off. They were riding in a beat up old Buick with the clean guy,  _ Aaron?  _ Some generic white boy name beginning with the letter A. He actually found the guy kind of cute, he wasn't terrible to look at. Not the type Magnus normally hooked up with, but it'd been a long time and was pent up as fuck. 

“How long ‘till we get there?” Magnus asked, keeping his voice quiet so Dev could sleep. Generic A named white boy was a lot more polite than captain crossbow. Captain crossbow, who looked even more douchey on his motorcycle. 

“Only a few more minutes. We’re four blocks away,” he replied calmly from the driver’s seat, turning the wheel to turn the first corner of those four. He occasionally glanced up into the mirror on his right, catching the sight of the two and it made him curious. They looked nothing alike and yet they seemed… close. “Are you brothers? Father, son?” maybe there was the dad ‘n son thing. Maybe the kid looked more like his mother or something.

“Jesus, do I really look old enough to be his dad?” Magnus sighed. It was probably his mountain man beard and shaggy hair, he hadn't had a proper cut it a long while. “We aren't related… just…. Kinda picked him up, like a stray puppy.” It wasn't totally inaccurate after all. He still was amazed by how easily they seemed to slip into a sibling dynamic. It probably had something to do with his overprotective attitude towards younger men. It was an army thing. Protect the new kid, don't let him get killed. Him, being his squad's medic only doubled that impulse. 

“My mistake,” the stranger glanced through the mirror again. “You look really close is all, like an older-younger brother thing, or a father-son type of thing. And the whole protective nature you have over him,” back in the church, it was a major show of just that between the two. They turned another corner.

“Yeah, we just.. I dunno, clicked, I guess.” He shrugged, and then nudged Devon with his elbow. He wanted him at least partially awake when they arrived. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Don't think I've seen any princes to kiss ya awake.” He joked, he loved his Disney movies. Nothing showed you how human badass Spec-Ops guys were than a whole barracks breaking out into Disney songs.

“Five mor’ mints,” Devon murmured and cuddled into the warmth at his side, almost curling up into a ball where he was and hearing a chuckle from a few feet away.

“Wake up, dork.” Magnus said, shoving his shoulder a bit and partially dislodging the Devon shaped barnacle from the USS Nilsson. “Don't make me resort to water. I've got a full canteen.” 

“No, not necessary! I’m up, I’m up!” he called tiredly, his voice gritty and deep, and he was sort of. Devon was half awake, half asleep as he pushed himself to sit up, leaning back into the seat with drowsing eyes and a lolling head. He was still so damn tired.

“I'm tired too, but we can sleep later.” He yawned. He was used to staying awake for long periods, especially being on watch. Hell, he even put drops of Tabasco sauce in his eyes to stay awake in Afghanistan.  _ Hope all the Taliban fucks got eaten by zombles.  _ He chuckled at that thought. All the Taliban fucks getting eaten in their little cave hideouts. Now  _ that  _ was justice. 

“Well, I coulda stayed asleep just now, but some old Vet decided to wake my ass up,” Devon groggily replied with his head dropping back to the head of the backseat. Jerkwod woke him up because… what? 

“You're the second person to call me old today! How old do you fucks think I am?” Because they were making him feel positively ancient.

“Like…” Devon paused, turning his head to look at him. He even squinted his eyes to try and get a better idea. “Mid thirties or something?” he was trying to be nice. It was the hair and long-ass beard that made him look that bit older. If he was completely honest, he’d have said late thirties. “Wait, who else said you were old?”

“Twenty-Nine. I'm twenty nine!” He growled. His dog tags proved it. He had no even hit the age of gay ancientness yet! He gestured to Aaron. “He called me your dad! And not in the kinky way!” he hated them all. He felt old. He was shaving his head and chopping his beard down, ASAP.

“My dad? Really?” Devon was totally waking up fast with this conversation. He started chuckling, his shoulders lifting and falling fast. “Woooow,” he giggled, shifting into a position where his back was against the door and his heels were digging into the bench between himself and Magnus. “Dude, it’s the hair, seriously. If you want, I could totally give you a cut,”  _ don’t tell anyone _ , but he’d used to take a lot of hairdressing lessons from his mother on boycuts.

“I know I look like I should be stranded at sea on a raft, yelling Wilson!!!!!”  _ That was a great reference, brain. Ten points to Hufflepuff.  _ He was slightly amused now, instead of utterly annoyed. “Just don't give me a chili bowl.” He practically begged with a shudder. Actually now he was curious… “What Harry potter house are you?” He blurted out to them both, but mostly Dev.

He stared up at the man, a grin gradually growing on his face. “Dude, Ravenclaw. I’m Witty, sort of intelligent and knowledgeable,” he recited the specialities of the house. He was a pretty big fan of the books, the movies more so. 

“I’m a Hufflepuff. Loyal, hard working, dedicated, I play fair and I'm sorta patient. Also, honey badger don't give a shit!” he grinned. Screw you Slytherin, Honey-badgers give no fucks about snakes, they  _ eat _ king cobras. Seriously, the honey badger is the most badass animal. He had one tattooed on his chest. With  _ Not A Single Fuck Was Given. _ In a beautiful script below it.

“Fuckin’ telling me. Went on holidays to some resort hotel and we found one. It nearly tore my dads face off,” obviously an exaggeration there, but it’d been an evil little fucker. Devon’s laugh was cut short as he felt the car slowing down, the wheels screeching from rust and underuse or something. 

“We’re here,” the guy up front stated as he rolled down the window. Devon wasn’t completely sure, but was this where they got out so they could talk to the big kahuna of the place?

“Bring your boss out, we'll wait here.” Magnus’ tone left no room for argument as he climbed out of the car. He didn't want Dev to be too nervous, so he continued his adoration to the honey badger. “Hey Dev? Did you know Moses actually received fifteen from god? But on the way down he dropped a tablet. Commandment number eleven was Thou shalt not fuck with the honey badger, for he is the harbinger of destruction. “

“Oh my god, seriously!?” he laughed and beamed as he climbed out of the car too. He wasn’t completely sure. He was thinking he was just being gullible here. He wasn’t surprised if that was the case. It was a pretty awesome thing to say though, funny. Devon was really laughing, like genuinely. 

“Yep. It's completely true. A British army Chaplain told me that, so it has to be correct.” Magnus was laughing to himself. He had plenty of hilarious stories involving run in with coalition soldiers from the UK, Germany, France. Hell, everywhere. 

Devon was still stuck between thinking he was joking. He was half reminding himself of Drax from Guardians of the Galaxy, taking this seriously. “Dude, are you being serious here?” he laughed as he rounded the car and leant against the metal. He only took a glance to the side, seeing the cleaner guy of the two that found them walking their way, a few people behind him and one at his side.

“It’s entirety true, a British Chaplain actually told me that. I was in a British field hospital with shrapnel in my butt.” It had been funny afterwards, but at the time, a literal assload of shrapnel from an IED behind him had fucking sucked.

“Dude, that sounds pretty bad. How long’d it take to heal?” even though he tried to sound like he was serious and asking with genuine curiosity, he was laughing, trying to stifle it. Totally wasn’t working.

“Don't remember. It was years ago, I was just a little baby private.” He'd been in the army a long time. Since he was pulled out of a jail cell at eighteen by a kind hearted sheriff and a cranky-ass old army recruiter. 

“Hey,” Devon turned his head towards the voice, seeing a thick stubled guy and the cleaner of the two guys coming towards them. The other one looked a cross between the cleaner guy and the one that sucker-punched him. He had sort of long hair, dark, maybe a bit greasy from working. He was wearing sort of neat clothes though, looking at least presentable.

“You the recruits?” he asked as he passed the threshold of the gates and stepped towards them. He seemed pretty confident, his posture gave that away. He was thinking that maybe this guy was Rick, the leader. Devon eyed him over and glanced around him towards the guy that hit him and the cleaner guy. He really needed to get their names right. There was a few behind him too. A kid with an eyepatch, a lady with a sword, a guy with long hair… dude,  _ the second coming _ … was the Lord supposed to look that attractive? 

“More like Sasquatch and his annoying, little brother.” The guy who’d punched Dev grumbled. Okay, Magnus would give him a point for sass. He still glared at him, but he approved the joke, three out a five points. He also eyed the African warrior princess version of Uma Therman. She looked like she could fuck shit up. He instantly liked her and she hadn't even spoken.

“Eat a dick, you greasy redneck,” Devon shot back on impulse, glaring at the bastard with his arms crossed. He’d totally get the guy back for that suckerpunch.

“Dev, behave.” Magnus said, squeezing his shoulder a little harder than necessary. “I take it, you're Rick?” Magnus could spot a commander, a leader, from any group. It was easy to read in a person's body language, especially if they were a civilian in a position of power.

“I am,” the guy replied simply, seeming to look them over carefully as he switched back and forth between Devon and Magnus. He didn’t seem pissed of anything. “Can I ask why you snapped back at my men?” he was talking about the redneck, right?

“Well, the crossbow wielding fella kinda punched Dev in the face.” Magnus replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. It probably didn't work, he had a growly sounding voice. So he always sounded grumpy or intimidating.

“That right?” Rick looked over his shoulder at the greasy guy, still not seeming pissed, but pretty calm still. It was sort of nice, he guessed. He’d never seen a guy this calm and composed in these situations. The leaders Devon had met were fucktards to the end. 

“They had guns on me!” The hunter shot back. Okay, they did, but he'd stuck a crossbow in his face. So it was kinda quid pro quo. 

“Mine was actually empty,” Devon pointed out almost innocently, his hand raising up like he was about to ask a question in pre-school. He noted the smirks and smiles that passed over a few faces, like they found it funny. The lady in back, pregnant looking with an Asian guy beside her, she looked like he was trying not to laugh, holding it to herself. 

“We sorta made a bad first Impression.” Aaron? Admitted.  _ Yeah, ya did. Crossbows in mah face make me very prickly.  _ Magnus cleared his throat. 

“I'd also like to point out I had a fully loaded assault rifle and could've killed ‘em both. You could really use some instruction of proper threat analysis.” Because bringing a crossbow against a guy almost a foot taller than you, with a fully loaded M16+A 40MM grenade launcher? Really bad threat assessment.

“I’m pretty glad you didn’t, thank you,” Rick nodded towards them. Devon saw the bit of a spark in the guys face, like he tried holding himself back from asking something or retaliating with something. He wasn’t completely sure, but the guy took a leader-like attitude on again and replied smoothly, thankfully. 

“Anyway, I'm Lieutenant Magnus Nilsson, 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta. This is Devon, college-boy and runner up for the next spider man.” He noticed the big ginger guy up on the wall give him a surprised look. He was clearly army Army boys could spit each other a mile away.

“Special Forces… Well ain’t that a Badger stealin’ honey,” the big redhead suddenly blurted out and Devon was… instantly confused, staring at him like he just spoke in a mix of different languages in one. The fuck was that supposed to mean and why...

“What division were you with? Sergeant right? You look like a squad leader.” Magnus called back, he was pretty convinced the place was safe at this point to be honest he hadn't seen any red flags… they seemed like….a family?  

“Big Red One” The big ginger guy answered and Magnus smiled turning back to Rick. First infantry good guys always kicked ass. 

“Despite a rocky start, I'm sure we can smooth things out. If you'll have us.” Magnus said, being as diplomatic as possible.

“Come on in,” Rick waved an arm out, glancing between them before taking a step to the side, like he’d opened a door to them or something.

“Weird, I never really came across anything like this. It’s a pretty nice community,” Devon whispered to Magnus as he stepped up closer to the guy.

“Me neither, still…. Keep your eyes open for now..” He found it best to err on the side of caution. Tended to be a good policy, though the fact they hadn't made him surrender his weapons had earned them major brownie points. This might work out afterall.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Devon opened the door to their hand-picked house, he darted in, grinning and beaming like a massive child. He strode in fast, almost skipping. “There’s so much room!” he said excitedly, spinning on the spot to get a better view of everything. Seriously, he felt like a kid during Christmas and hearing that Santa got him everything he wanted.

“It's defensible, easy exits, choke points, and great sightlines. It's probably the safest of the houses we looked at.” He shook his head fondly, of course they'd both had completely different reasons for picking this particular house. “Hot water, electricity. Gotta say, I ain't complaining.” He was _soooo_ gonna shower. His blonde hair was so caked with dirt, it had turned brown. He had a feeling there would be mud running down the drain before he finished.

Talking about hot water… “Dude, go wash up and I’ll give you a haircut. Don’t want people thinkin’ you’re my dad, right?” Devon grinned as he practically skipped into the kitchen to see what was there. The fridge was stocked already! He grabbed two mousse cartons, grabbing two spoon from the cutlery drawer.

Magnus flipped him off as he made his way to the bathroom. He easily found the towels and such and made his way into the bathroom. He started the water, letting it warm, as he stripped of his clothes. He felt like he'd spent three months in the desert with no shower. He stepped under the hot spray. Of course the shower head was too low, sitting at about the centre of his chest.

“God damn tall people problems.” He muttered. Luckily it had one of those detachable hand nozzles. He spent a long time washing, he had too, he was _that_ dirty. The water was cold by the time he finished, but he was blissfully clean. He spent a while chopping and shaving his beard, to his proper style, No one touched his beard but him. He'd forgotten to bring fresh clothes, so he made his way down stairs with a towel around his waist.

“Dude! Did you know that these guys have cabl- Whoa! Okay!” Devon turned away as soon as he saw the guy. He wasn’t complaining about a naked guy, just the fact that it was Magnus. Seriously, he liked guys, like… a lot. But this dude was more like a best friend or older brother at this point.

He completely ignored Dev. He was so used to being naked in front of like _thirty_ other guys. He stooped and snatched his duffel, pulling on some jeans and nothing else. He smirked, twisting his towel and thwacking Devon in the ass with it.

“Whoa, you fuck!” he rubbed his thin fabric covered ass. Seriously, his jeans were thin. He continuously ran his hand over his butt, up and down fast. “I’m giving you a bowlcut for that!” Devon shot back, trying to stifle his grin and laugh.

Magnus was chuckling heavily as he flopped into a kitchen chair. He'd pulled his hair up into a ponytail, looking less like a stranded mariner and more like himself. He felt a lot better anyway. “Come tame this shaggy mop, Dev.” He would really feel better without an extra fifty pounds of hair on his head.

Devon finished rubbing his and scoffed as he made his way over, rounding the island to where he’d grabbed a load of scissors and spread them out. “Any preferred length Jason Momoa?” he chuckled. He was a damn great actor. He stepped up closer to the old Vet after grabbing a decent sized pair, along with a shaver. He honestly didn’t what the guy wanted. A Buzzcut? A sort of normal length? Enough to spike up, like Jensen Ackles cut or something. He needed an idea.

“Mohawk, but not a douchy 90’s punk Mohawk. I want one like that singer from Sabaton Joakim Brodén.” He liked that cut, no maintenance, fit his head and didn't make him look like an old man.

“Alright,” he crookedly smirked, starting to reach out for his head. He started at the long hair-.

“FYI, if you're thinking of making me look retarded, remember I know 1001 ways to kill you.” he warned, his voice icy and threatening.

“Dude, I take hair seriously. How else d’you think I could keep my hair this great in the zombie apocalypse,” Devon grinned, pointing to his own head before he started cutting that the ponytail, taking the thing off first and then working at the sides and top. He worked quickly and efficiently, grabbing the shaver when he was getting close to his scalp. He shaved down the sides mostly, keeping the top there for a second. He started from the back and rounded him over and over until the centre at the very top, from front to back, one long and wide strip was left.

“That what you were lookin’ for?” he asked, passing him a square piece of mirror.

He looked at his reflection, letting out a hum. _Lookin’ pretty good there, Magnus._ “Exactly, you did a good-” he was cut off by a knock on their door. “Go answer the door. I'll clean up the mass of hair.” Magnus grabbed the broom off the wall and began sweeping up the mess.

“A’right,” he smiled as he jogged over towards the other end of the room, his hand reaching out to grab at the handle. Devon pulled open the door and saw a pretty little old lady. Well… not that old, she was like… late forties, early fifties? “Hey-uh…” she wasn’t in the line-up from earlier, at the gate. It was then that he noticed she was holding a plate of cookies and he beamed wider. “Come on in,” he stepped out of the way for her. “I’m Devon, this is Magnus,” he introduced simply.

“I’m Carol, just stopped by to welcome you boys to the neighbourhood.” She placed the cookies on the counter. “I see you got cleaned up you looked like a mountain man when you came in.” She directed at Magnus of course she'd seen him a giant Viking drew attention.

“Yeah, I definitely feel more human now. Are those cookies? _Fresh_ Cookies?” Magnus unwrapped the plate greedily, stuffing one in his mouth and letting out a rather lewd noise.

“Been awhile since you've had a cookie?” she chuckled at his antics. He nodded, not wanting to talk with his mouth full. He had a feeling she’d scold him for bad table manners, she seemed like the momma bear type.

“My god, yes!” Devon beamed as he reached across the island and grabbed for one of the cookies, instantly shoving it in his face. “Dan you!” he muffled through the solid dough, noting the brow flicker at him. “Orry,” he said with food in his mouth. He wasn’t the most polite, but these things were beautiful, like heaven on his tongue.

Magnus swallowed before speaking. “Don't talk with yer’ mouth full,” he and Carol scolded in unison. Magnus shook his head before cleaning up the rest of the hair in the kitchen.

Devon chewed hard and smoothly and quickly swallowed. “I felt like I was just parented on,” he licked at his lips and reached for another, taking bites instead of just inhaling the cookie this time.

“You just got momed and big brothered.” Magnus chuckled as Carol quirked a brow at them. She took a seat at the island on a stool.

“So how'd you two boys get together.” Eww, that made them sound like a couple, which they soooo weren't. Still it was a fair and innocent question, but he knew probing when he heard it.

“Oh god, we’re not _together_ together,” he spoke bluntly, letting a smirk into his lips. Honestly, he was more into the Jesus looking guy that’d been one of the guys greeting them at the gates.

“More like I adopted him,” Magnus shrugged, eyeing her cautiously. _Trying to put me off guard with sweets eh? Won't work lady._ “And he _literally_ ran into me.” He figured Carol was really here to asses them for Rick, which was smart, so he wouldn't blame her or Rick.

“Yeah, I launched myself over a few fences to get away from a small herd of dead guys and basically landed on him,” Devon grinned, crossing his arms over the edge of the island. He was totally stoked right now. This was a surprisingly good space for them and this lady was really nice, regardless of the fact he thought she was trying to get info out of them.

“Wow I can't even imagine. “ She said slightly amused buy the story. “I heard your first meeting with Daryl didn't go so well.” Understatement! Massive Understatement. That was a total shit show.

“The guy punched me in the face,” Devon replied a bit flatly, running his hand over his lip, where it was still sensitive and split, the ulcer on his tongue was being a huge fuckin’ pain in his ass.

“Daryl means well. He just takes some time to warm up to people,” Damn it, why'd that sound both reasonable and feasible. “We've got a pretty good doctor. Herschel, he can probably give you some painkillers, if you need them.” She was clearly the moderator of the group, trying to get them to all get along.

“Think I might have a few in my bag, but thank you,” he didn’t have anything against this Hershel guy, he just hated hospitals and doctor’s tended to want him to show up. Though, he was sure he did have maybe a slip of painkillers in his bag. He remembered picking some up before meeting Magnus.

“I'll drag him to the doc, if he gets worse.” he assured her. He had medical training, sure, but he wasn't a full doctor. He was mostly trained to patch up gunshot and shrapnel wounds.

“I’m totally not surprised you’d say that,” Devon scoffed as he grabbed another cookie and hopped off of the stool, heading towards the stairs to do some exploration of the house. He’d only ran around downstairs so far.

“Take a shower while your up there, I can smell you from here!” He shouted after him, chuckling to himself. Carol seemed amused, she was a sweet lady, despite being a spy.

“You’re not my dad,” he shot back as he jogged up the stairs.

“You need some fatherly role modelling on this damn trip, and I’m puttin’ money down that I fit that bill for you better than anyone here!” He bit back.

“Stop taking all the better comebacks, dammit! Devon yelled down the stairs. “And I’m gettin’ in the shower, but not because you told me to!” he added fast.


	5. Chapter 5

They'd been in Alexandria about a week, and had started to develop a decent rapport with their neighbors. Carol was still low key spying on them, which he found amusing. He'd actually convinced Rick to patrol the damn walls. Devon hadn't gotten sucker punched again, so things were going pretty well. He'd also been hanging around Abraham and Aaron a lot become pretty quick friends with both of them.

It was early afternoon when there was a knock at the door. “Why do they always show up when I've got my hands full?” And he did, he was in the middle of butchering a deer. Kinda busy, couldn't come to the door. “Devon! Get the door!” Magnus yelled. 

Devon put his makeshift bookmark in place and closed the book, throwing himself to his feet before jogging towards the door. “Hang on,” he reached the handle and opened it, grinning politely as he saw who it was. Though it dropped at the look that was on his features. “Aaron? Hey, you okay?” he eyed him curiously, stepping aside to let him in. “Come in, man,”

“Thanks,” Aaron made his way inside and sat at the kitchen island as far from where Magnus was playing butcher as he could get, resting his head in his hands. Magnus eyed him up and down. He looked exhausted and just…. Sad? Pissed? He was a little hard to read. 

“You and Eric have another fight?” Magnus asked, giving him as much of his attention as he could spare without slicing one of his fingers off. 

“Yeah.” He let out a sigh, “Mind if I drown my woes and potentially crash on your couch?” that sounded bad. He knew their relationship was strained, but he just had no idea why. When he'd first met them, they'd seemed like a happy couple, but maybe they were at that slight highpoint before the relationship crashed and burned.

“Your space is ours, dude. Couch is all yours,” Devon let a sympathetic smile cross his lips as he sat next him, arms crossed over the edge of the table. He even gave Magnus a look, telling him to agree with him. He knew he more than likely would anyway, the two had gotten close since they first got there.

“Of course, you crash here whenever you need too.” Magnus finished, skinning the deer and picking up a massive cleaver to remove its legs.”What did you fight about?” That might have been a prying question, but... well Aaron looked like a man who needed to vent.

"Just so damned jealous! Like he thinks that if I spend any length of time with anything with a penis, I'm cheating on him. It's ridiculous. Like, he accused me of sleeping with Abraham! Can you believe that? Don't get me wrong, I love Abe to death, but I would  _ never  _ have sex with him!” There was the venting. He needed to get it all out, so he just listened politely. “What's he want me to do, never talk to another male?” 

Magnus finished hacking the Deer into manageable pieces and stored it in the deep freeze, going to the sink to wash his hands. He pulled on some rubber gloves and washed the counter down with bleach, thinking carefully about his response. “I hate to say it, Aaron, but if he's accusing  _ you  _ of cheating, it’s probably to cover up his own infidelity. Either that, or he's really insecure and needs to build his own self image before trying to be committed.” That's what his experience was anyway.

“I honestly wouldn’t have any idea of what you’re going through, but…” Devon never had that kind of experience. He’d never really been in that kind of relationship. He was a recently open gay guy, just started college when he realized it. “...I don’t think that a person accusing someone as loyal as you of cheating is worth your time,” it was his honest answer, or as honest as he could actually be.

“Maybe you're right. I mean, the only real reason we got together was the fact we were the only two gay guys in town.” It was the sad truth of the situation honestly. Magnus finished his cleaning, putting everything away and washing his hands again. 

“I can't tell you what to do here, Aaron, but the answer seems obvious to me.” he grabbed three shot glasses and filled them with the vodka Aaron brought with him. “I say let's get drunk, have a good time and you can figure all this out in the morning.” He'd help take his mind off things if nothing else. 

“Think we’d need a bit more than just this. How about to go talk to Olivia about getting another bottle, yeah?” Devon grinned, getting a little excited about the thought of finally being able to get drunk without being worried about getting eaten himself. 

“Bribe Olivia with my stash of candy might get two bottles.” Magnus added. The girl loved sweets, couldn’t fault her for that.

“Where they at?” he asked with a grin as he climbed off of his seat

“In my foot locker in the bottom of the ammo can.” No one would think to look for candy buried under a few hundred 5.56 rounds after all.

“Sweet,” no pun intended. Devon left, leaping up the stairs and to Magnus’ room. He strode over to the box at the base of his bed and pulled the lid up, reaching in and digging through everything until he found the candy. He grabbed a load of it, not everything, and bagged them, tying up the top.

“Put everything back where you found it!” Magnus yelled, hearing him rummaging through his stuff.

“I was going to!” Devon yelled back. Yeah, he was an animal, but he put other people's stuff back. He was only a mess with his own shit. And he did, he put everything back in after himself… though he maybe screwed around with where exactly they’d been. He loved messing with Magnus’ OCD every chance he got.

Devon then got up and left the room, closing the door behind him before he strode down the stairs and then made his way towards the front door. “See you guys in a few,” he grinned, waving as he left the building.

“GET MY IPOD BACK FROM CARL WHILE YOU'RE OUT!” he shouted loud enough he'd hear him outside. Couldn't have a party without music after all.

“IF I SEE HIM!” he yelled back, closing the door behind him. Maybe if he didn’t, he could just try to find him. It’d give Mag and Aaron some time together. He totally shipped Magron.. Aarnus? Whatever, they made a cool couple. 

Devon headed down the road at a casually fast pace, almost jogging towards where he knew the garage was. It was about a block away, where everyone seemed to have something to do. It was in the busier part of the community. Devon actually wanted to ask Rick to see if he could help there. He was better with his brain than brawn. He was a thinker, not a fighter. The only reason he’d go out was to scavenge, and he’d rather do that alone, to get around faster.

He strode down the road and almost skipped, feeling sort of happy and excited about the drink and party. Hell, maybe inviting a few people to come over a bit later would bring Aaron a smile. He tended to like being in a group of friends, right? Abe, Michonne, Carl, Paul “Jesus”. He couldn’t hold back a humorous laugh at that. He’d thought about the joke he’d made when he first got there,  _ the second coming _ , comment and he nearly gaped after finding out about his nickname. It was great. 

And honestly, he really liked the guy. He was down to earth, calm, always composed and sensible and not hard to work with, by the looks of him. He was simple, but complicated in a few ways, something about him was drawing, interesting.

Devon rounded the corner and headed towards the garage, noting that it was open and that Olivia was standing there, a clipboard in hand and she was counting out the cans on the shelf. He let a grin beam across his face as he practically skipped over and abruptly halted at the open door.

“Hey-uh… busy?” he noticed her flinch, having not been expecting anyone, it seemed.

“My god.. I-uh.. No, no. I’m not,” she panted lightly. Clearly, he did shock her with an abrupt appearance. “What can I help you with?” she asked, fixing her glasses on her face and turning to completely face him. 

“Weeeell, see… Aaron was feeling a bit off, and decided to come over to our pad. Me and Magnus were thinking that maybe we could have a drunk night,” he explained carefully and slow, grabbing the bag of sweets from his knee high pocket. “But, we don’t have enough to drink to get the level of drunk we need,” he hinted, flicking his brow twice fast. He was trying hard to be as polite as he could too, which was sort of difficult. 

“Bribing me-,”

“No, haggling… these are totally Magnus’s and you know, he picks the best kind of candy…. Pleeeaasssee,” Devon wasn’t opposed to begging, seriously. 

He could see her thinking, mulling it over in her head while biting at her lip in thought. This was tipping his favour, he could see it and then she sighed. ‘ _ YES!!! _ ’. He totally refrained himself from dancing in victory at that. 

“Okay, one bottle-,”

“I was sort of hoping for two,” he scrunched his nose, thinking that he was really pushing it. She stared at him and then turned away, looking and counting out something behind her, something he couldn’t see. Whatever it was, it must’ve been fine, because she pulled out two bottles carefully, and then walked over to the table beside her and himself. She put them down, the clipboard too and then grabbed two glasses from the rack to her left. Were they about to drink?

“One and a half,” www, they were haggling? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one haggling for two bottles? Damn.

“A’right… one and a half,” couldn’t hurt. Magnus and Aaron were probably about to finish that one bottle off without him, so… this wouldn’t be a problem. 

\----------

“You do realize him and Olivia are probably gonna get plastered, right?” Aaron asked, downing his…. Fourth? Fifth shot? He had a pretty high tolerance anyway. He'd have to take more than this to get hammered. 

“Was just getting rid of him for a bit.” They'd moved to the living room, sitting close to each other on the sofa, thighs brushing and knees bumping as they shifted. He'd wanted to talk to Aaron alone, just for a minute. “Can I ask you something, Aaron?” He was probably gonna feel like an ass, but he  _ needed  _ to know.

“Yeah, you can ask me anything. I can’t  promise I'll answer, though.” He chuckled, figuring he was about to ask something stupid or ridiculous. This was Magnus, after all. He was kind of a dork.

“Do, you…. Do you love him? Eric, I mean?” Magnus locked his gaze with Aaron’s, who gave him a shocked expression before looking really deep in thought for several long minutes. 

“I love the idea of him, of  _ us.”   _ But did he love  _ Eric _ ? “No, I…. Don't. I like him, care for him, find him sexually attractive. But no, I don't love him.” That was both extremely liberating and terrifyingly hard to admit. He leaned into Magnus who wrapped an arm around him comfortingly. 

\----------

It was totally a problem.

Devon giggled, sitting on the table while leaning back against the wall it was attached too. Olivia was laughing, trying to explain this fucked up story about her boyfriend from before this shit went down. He couldn’t understand a fuckin’ word, because everything she said was a laugh or cackle. One bottle of vodka was gone, having taken shots after shots and playing  _ ‘Have you ever’ _ . The premise was… if you never did something that was asked, a question, you took a drink… or was it… if you had done it, you take a drink? Whatever, it was one of ‘em. 

Anyway, Olivia had gotten more bottles out, they were on the third, half way through. Turned out, they were both lightweights, even though they drank them fast and easily. The fuck man. And it’d only been like… half n hour? He should really be getting back to-, hey..

“Ovilia..Olibia.. Oli… Ovilia- pffftt hahaha,” Devon hunched forward, causing more laughter from both of them. He couldn’t fuckin’ say her name! 

“Olibi-... Ovilia-, Dammit Vedon… No..” she laughed, slapping the table he was sitting on. “De-von,” she tried pronouncing it per syllable. Olivia started laughing harder.

“Where’s the party at?” Devon was cackling and hurting at this point, his ribs and back muscles were on the verge of splitting. He turned towards where he heard the voice and saw a cop-hat and a thick, winter beanie. He grinned and sat up straight, regretting it when everything spun, but he ignored it.

“My hous-... Magnus’s hou… our house? Whatever! I was ‘pose to come ‘ere ‘n get drink to take back, but Ovilia wanted to share shots ‘n now I’m shitfaced,” Devon grinned, taking another glass quickly and dropping it back like it was water. 

“Maybe you should slow down,” Cral… Coarl? Isn’t that what his ol’ man called him?

“Sorry, Ossifer. I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” instantly Olivia burst into hysterics, laughing harder and harder and she ended up on the floor on her knees, arms crossed over the edge of the table, face buried in her arms. Devon was on the verge of tears, laughing so hard and he turned to see the other two guys laughing with them, admittedly not as hysterically. 

“He’s insane,” Coarl laughed.

“Nwwwww, only insane people call other people insane,” that made… sense and not-sense at the same time.  _ You’re drunk, Devon, go home _ . 

“Think I might need to take you home,” Jesus spoke up, a smile on his face, like he was taking all of this in stride. 

“Haven’t even bought me dinner first,” Devon slurred, cackling and taking another sip from the row of shot glasses. They kept forgetting they were there. He and Olivia had been doing a challenge and ‘POOF’, forgot they had shot glasses.

“C’mon,” the guy walked into the room.

“Whoa, whoa hang on,” he paused as Jesus got closer, about arms length away. “Coarl,” he Devon purposely put on the accent. “Mug _nuts_ wants his imax… no...pad? Ipod? That one, he wants his Ipod back, ‘cause there’s a party at our place, only cool people are invited!” so that meant _fuck_ Spencer! HAH! The fuck was a jerk.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go get it and bring it back to your place,” the kid then scoffed, laughing as he turned around and then left. Olivia was still on the floor, laughing her face off and Jesus was now holding on him, his hands around his biceps while trying to manoeuvre him off of the table to stand up. He totally felt the churning in his stomach from it, but fuck, he wasn’t gonna throw up. No problems there. 

“And while he’s doing that, I’ll help you get back there, yourself,” Jesus said as he wrapped an arm around his waist and slipped the drunks arm over his shoulder.

“Ovilia, you comin’ to party?” her giggling and somewhat fast and stumble-y movements were a sign that, ‘yes’ she was gonna come along. Awesome. She started gathering up the bottles, three of them? Awesome, they had more than two bottles, like Mugnuts asked for. 

“Alright, c’mon,” the man chuckled lightly as he directed Devon out of the room, the lady following carefully behind, and then out to the street. It was darker now, the sun gradually going down. It wasn’t like… sunset dark, it was more, late afternoon dark.


	6. Chapter 6

“Damn it, Dev. Hurry your ass up,” Magnus grumbled, his buzz was rapidly fading and so was Aaron's, which meant he was thinking. Magnus did not want him to think right now, so he excused himself, running upstairs and grabbing the electric guitar, Michonne so generously recovered for him. He made his way back down the stairs, plugging into the amp he'd found sitting in one of his neighbor's garages. 

“You play?” Aaron asked, sitting back on the couch eyeing him curiously. Magnus smiled at him, strumming out a few cords until he was satisfied with the sound. He was tempted to crank the amp to 11, but the whole town didn't need to hear the siren wail of his electric power, so he set it on a quite loud, but modest 3. 

“It's been awhile, not since I was deployed in Iraq. I used to be pretty good, they called me ‘frets on fire’ at West Point.” He was probably being modest. He could melt faces, he'd admit it. He tapped his fingers along the neck of the guitar, trying to decide what to play- 

“Can you do the Solo from the live version of  _ Veteran of the Psychic Wars _ ”  _ Pick an  _ **_easy one_ ** why dontcha. It wasn't the easiest bit to play, it took a lot of fitness and some well callused fingers to solo that hard for almost five minutes straight. He nodded, picking up his guitar pick and biting his lip in concentration. He had to remember the whole thing from memory. He didn't exactly have the sheet music. He began playing the build up at least this solo let you ease into it. By the time he started truly shredding though, it was like he'd never put his guitar down. His fingers danced across the strings like water and he found himself smiling and banging his head as he built up. Aaron looked positively floored, which meant he wasn't thinking. Mission accomplished. He played the last cord looking Aaron in the eye, who stood and gave him a standing ovation. Magnus chuckled and bowed, shaking his head fondly. 

“That was awesome,” He and Aaron said almost in unison. He so owed Michonne for this, he forgot how good it felt to melt faces. Even if his fingers were currently raw, that had been invigorating.

\----------

Jesus helped him up the steps to their building, keeping a stable hold on him as they went and the strode across the few feet of decking that led to the front door. Once they reached it, the man started to knock on the wood with his knuckles, being polite and not just opening it without a word.

Magnus broke his embrace with Aaron, squeezing the back of his neck affectionately. He strode across the room, letting out a grouchy huff. He pulled the door open to reveal Jesus holding up a very wobbly Devon. _ Scratch that, the kid’s sauced and so is Olivia.  _

_ “ _ Jiminy Cricket, Dev. I sent you to get booze from Olivia, not to get Olivia boozed.” Magnus laughed, ushering them both inside and helping poor Olivia to a chair.  _ Bless their little drunken hearts.  _

“ _ She _ got  _ me  _ shitfaced!” Devon protested as Jesus walked him over to the couch, to where he sprawled out almost instantly with the man standing close, keeping an eye on him. “She haggle me down to a bottle ‘n a half and we ended up... “ he gestured to them both.

“Honestly, it’s believable. She seemed a bit more drunk than him at the time,”  _ hah! Took my side! Two against one there, Magnuts! _

Magnus pointed an accusatory finger at Olivia. “You are a menace, young lady. A terrible influence.” His words would have been a bit more effective, if he weren't chuckling under his breath. His cheeks flushed with mirth and amusement,  _ damn kids. _

“Who? Me?” she’d giggled, and Devon laughed out loud as he tried to sit up, shaking a little before he managed to turn onto his stomach and point at the huge man in the room. 

“You leave her alone, you great ape! We had fun,” he slurred, letting the weight of his head take over and dropped it into the pillow below him. “And ‘side-,” his voice was completely muffled by the pillow. “-She brought drinks,”

“It's like having a teenage brother and a menace middle sister.” He sighed, walking to the fridge and shoving a bottle of water into Olivia's hands. “Drink.” He commanded. He made his way to Devon and whacked him on the back of the head with the bottle. “Drink.” he ignored the muffled ‘ _ fuck you _ ’ that left the kid’s lips.

“What’re you, the water Gestapo?” Aaron laughed and dodged a playful swat from one of Magnus’ orangutan limbs.  _ Brat.  _

“Shuddup, pretty boy.” Magnus grumbled, letting out another huff as another knock resounded from the door. He stalked to the door, ready to shout at whoever had dared disturb them. His demeanor changed Immediately when he saw Michonne’s smiling face and the three full whiskey bottles in her arms. “My warrior princess!” Magnus greeted with a grin, waving her inside. 

“Carl told me the cool people were having a party. So, I brought your iPod and the three wise men. Let's party.” She grinned as she walked straight across the room, plugging the iPod into the dock and letting music thump through the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoy what we got going here. Let us know what you think and what part you liked more!! :D


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